It had been hard to get out of the house that morning. The air outside was so cold it seemed to burn when John took a deep breath. But in the pasture waited over 200 little mother-to-be heifer cows that he had worried about all night. They needed a good eye out over them, those heifers, because some of them would get in trouble trying to have that first calf. With this in mind, John threw on a couple extra layers of clothes, saddled up his horse with apologies, and headed out. The storm had blew in fast last night and drifted with the merciless wind. But his heifers were hardy things and as he rode along he found them in groups, usually near stands of cedar trees.

John counted the groups as he went, noting which heifers were looking close to that due date, thankful as he went that none had decided to make last night the night to bring a calf into the world. But, as he ended his circle in the pasture his numbers were off by one and a niggling sensation in his head told him it hadn’t been a miscount.

John found the mess when he came up on the little canyon down by the draw. The snow had covered her tracks which meant she had got into trouble around about the time the storm started. The top half of her black-haired torso stuck out of a drift, John knew she would be dead before he even got closer. She must have been there all night.

Something shuffled then in the drift and John watched in shock as the new mother shook off the snow and turned her body around. She started licking off the calf lying still as ice in the drift snow. Lord! That little guy must be frozen through. She probably laid there and tried to push him out all night and then he was born all trembling and wet on snow. He would be gone now. What a pity! The cow, so intent on her new babe, didn’t seem to care or notice as John nudged the horse closer, his tough cowboy heart saddened by the fight the heifer had put in just to lose a calf to the merciless cold.

The snow around her body had melted with her body heat, was packed down around her with the struggles of labor, and was stained pink with blood from the after birth. The heifer, oblivious to her surroundings, continued her chore with her long rough tongue licking over and over the face and body of her prodigy.

And then he moved. It was just a tiny blink of an eye at first, then a twitch of the little ears. John’s heart turned over with the excitement and was off his horse in a moment, edging closer. But this time the cow noticed, let out a bellow, and struggled to her feet. The look she gave John made him want to laugh with joy. She was not going to let him get a step closer and, as if the little guy was trying to show off, John watched in amazement as he also struggled up on his tiny hooves in the slippery snow. The mother let a out a softer call now, one she made as she turned her head slightly to the calf and nudged him a little. He found milk in moments. John couldn’t believe what he had just watched.

That cow had started labor as the storm blew in and gave birth to him in a snow drift. Now both of them were standing there looking at their caretaker as if he needed to find another task to occupy his time because they didn’t require any assistance.

“Well, good morning, beautiful.” John said with a chuckle, tipping his hat, and hopping back in the saddle. He turned the horse around and smiled as they trotted through the snow, sparkling in the morning light.

God’s grace seemed to shout out to him from the bright sun that day and say, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Vivian hated those long drives, but it was worth it to go visit her parents. They had spent a good day together and as always, it had worn out their grandkids. She wasn’t quite sure how they did it, but at the end of the day when it was time to pack up and leave, Ann and Tedd had got quietly into the back seat and passed out ten minutes down the road. Vivian didn’t even turn on the radio, the silence was sweet and full of pleasant thoughts. At the end of their two-hour trip would be their home and Vivian’s husband, ready to tuck everyone into bed.

The winter sky had darkened into a moonless blackness and her headlights tore into the night. She took the on-ramp for the interstate. She almost missed the man walking up the side, almost, but her as her eyes lit upon him an over-powering urge took her and she hit the brakes.

Really, God? A hitchhiker? This late at night? I need to get home. But it was too late now. Her car slowed down right next to him and she heard her own voice, like a traitor, saying, “Do you need a ride, sir?” The man didn’t even have the good grace to reply, he just opened the door and hopped in like he owned her little car. Vivian bit her lip, suddenly feeling very cautious and mad at herself for stopping. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the man. His clothes were ragged and his hair unkempt and he was eying her two cherubs in the back with a decidedly disgusted expression.

Something trembled inside her. She could feel the malice reeking from him like an unpleasant stench. God, really, why?

Because you asked me to.

Vivian remembered then. She had been feeling so very blessed that day, her life full of joy and happiness. She had sent up a fervent prayer asking God to guide her into giving back some of that happiness.

She almost let out a groan, but instead took a deep breath and took a shot at some meaningless chatter. “So, where are you headed, sir?”

“Where are you going?” He shot back at her, not even a hint of politeness in his voice.

Vivian kept her eyes on the road and replied, “I can take you as far as Lakeview.”

He didn’t answer. Discontent filled the car like a smoke. Had she done something to offend him? Fear nudged at her and she kept telling herself to be calm. God wouldn’t put her in a position of harm. She was going to be fine, but that thought didn’t keep her eyes from darting to the back seat and gazing and the two children, deep in sleep, their cheeks flushed in pleasant warmth.

The man’s voice rasped out then, “You shouldn’t have picked me up. You should know better, woman.” He cursed. A string of foul language coming forth that made her heart pound.

Vivian heard the warning in his voice and the fear hit her veins like ice water. It was a wonder she could even drive. The one part of her that should be closed tight was answering the man then, her words ridiculously calm considering the turmoil she felt inside, “I knew you needed a ride and I had space for you.”

He shook his head and glanced in the back seat again. Why did he keep looking at her kids?

“You don’t understand. You shouldn’t have picked me up. Have to get somewhere. I have to get there tonight. I am going to do anything to get there.”

“Where do you have to go?” Vivian asked, trying not to gag on the fear stuck in her throat.

He shrugged, “Does it matter to you? I was going to take the next vehicle of whoever was stupid enough to pick me up and it was you.” He turned squarely to her and rasped out angrily, “I could kill you. I need this car so bad.” Vivian’s heart seemed to stop and then he went on, “But those kids, I can’t do it with those kids.”

She was going to cry. Her mind ran wild through all the twisted things that seemed about to happen to her, to her kids, to her life. Who was this man? The silence that had not so long ago seemed so sweet now tortured her with its oppressive secrets.

She heard the vagabond let out a deep breath, like the air going out of a tire. When he spoke again some of the wrath was missing, “I’m trying to get to my son.”

“Is he sick?”

He shook his head. Vivian waited for him to continue, afraid another question might send him over a dangerous edge.

“I just told him I would come. He needs me. I haven’t seen him for awhile.”

That simple answer thawed some of the fear and Vivian softly stated, “Children are blessed when they have someone who cares.”

It was those words that got Vivian’s passenger talking, really opening up to her and that two-hour ride became a life changing event. Gerald Smith had lived life hard and the one thing he had that was truly good was his son. Courts had decided he wasn’t fit to have custody of him when he was born, and Gerald admitted it had been a good choice. Foster care had been better for that little tyke than life with a father constantly being imprisoned and never keeping a job. But now that son was almost ten and had run into trouble and called his dad. Gerald had been traveling for days and felt his time running short. Rides were getting hard to find since Gerald looked dangerous. He had been waiting hours before Vivian had pulled up next to him and had already decided that if he was going to reach his boy in time he needed to commit another crime.

Vivian listened, letting him pore it all out. When he was done he said once again, “I think I would have done something really bad if you hadn’t had those kids with you. Why did you pick me up?”

She smiled and said, “God told me to.”

He listened then as she told him of God’s grace and when they got to Lakeview she pulled into a truck station and asked him to wait in the car. Gerald did. Vivian didn’t have money to give the man, but she found a nice truck driver that was headed exactly where Gerald needed to go. She got back to the car and told Gerald, “I enjoyed our trip, Gerald. I’ll be praying for you. “

There were tears on that rough man’s face when he got out and said, “I’m so glad it was you that picked me up.”

Oh, God, please be with us. Just, oh, if I can ask it, let Mary sleep peacefully and if I need help, let there be some sweet grandmotherly sort that doesn’t mind. Please, please. The sixteen hour flight stretched before me like a mad nightmare. I knew it would be bad. Mary didn’t sleep well unless she was in her cradle and made her dislikes known with loud screaming cries. There was no way this was going to be easy. Perhaps God would just blot it all from my memory afterwards and I would never, ever, lay eyes on a single one of my fellow passengers ever again. Ha! Fat chance!

I stopped at a Fudruckers before going to my gate. I had hours to kill since the International flights left late in the evening. Besides, it would be easier to feed Mary now in a high chair than later in a tiny seat on a bumpy flight. Perhaps if I timed everything just right she would magically fall asleep the whole sixteen hours while I enjoyed snacks and watched movies.

Great, I am now panicked into ridiculous optimism of which I will soon have crushed into smithereens. Remember, Lora, SIXTEEN HOURS. I gave Mary a look and settled her into a high chair as I opened up her yogurt.

The yogurt was devoured and my onion rings nibbled at, my stomach too nervous to comply with eating, and we headed to the gate. My shoulders were already aching from the massive back pack, the diaper bag, and the baby carrier that had Mary strapped over my chest and belly. It was nice to be shuffled on the plane first, apparently the only crazy woman traveling with a baby for this flight.

I got on my battle-face as I took my seat. It was time to execute the first part of my plan—organize baby stuff for flight, store excess baggage, arrange baby in carrier for take-off. I got it all done and then a flight attendant comes by with a helpful-sweet smile and starts in on me, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the baby needs to be out of the carrier for take-off. OH, and are those your bags? Everything must be stowed in the overhead compartments, including the carrier. And, when you are ready I will give you proper instructions on how to use a baby seat-belt for this flight.” She turned and left and I tried not to call her names in my head. After all, she was just doing her job and she hadn’t been rude. I would have just preferred, obviously, to have been left alone to do it all my way.

And then I heard her, a fellow passenger. “Sweetheart, let me help you.” She must have been about my mom’s age with sassy pepper-gray hair cut short around her face, bright green eyes, and a soft smile. Before I could say, “Bob’s your uncle.” She had all my bags and the darn carrier stowed away. I didn’t get to talk to her more though because the flight attendant was back and giving me a thorough lecture regarding the baby seat belt, the changing tables in the bathrooms, and the other various baby rules. By the time she was done Mary had worked herself into a storm. It was time for her nightly nursing, she knew it and she wanted it NOW.

The plane was in flight just about the time that Mary finished her feeding and to my greatest disbelief, fell asleep like a rock. I was able to slide her into her bassinet, strap the safety net in place, and sit back in my seat as a liberated woman.

I reveled in the freedom and the quiet. I marveled at my good fortune as me and everyone around me took in their in-flight movie and meal in peace and I thanked God.

That’s when I remembered her. She was sitting across the aisle and her eyes were still on my sleeping angel. She wasn’t watching a movie like everyone else. When she caught me staring she extended a hand and said, “Hi, I’m Sandy. You have a beautiful baby.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a laugh. “I agree with you.”

“Well, if you need any help, you just let me know.”

I nodded and she turned back to her meal. Five minutes later I saw another woman with white curls close to her head and two sapphire earrings bobbing around her neck. She wasn’t headed back to her seat. She was headed straight for me. When she reached me she said, “Now if you have any trouble, I’m a pro at putting babies to sleep. I’ve got 10 grandkids.”

And another woman came while I was putting away my meal. “You can call me Sally. I’m right down in row 62 and you come get me if you need anything.”

Another woman smiled and offered to help when I got up to use the bathroom and yet another when I was returning to my seat. God, do I look that worn out and pathetic? It was only then that I stopped and really looked at my fellow passengers. Except for a teenage boy and a young couple near the front, they all appeared to be in their fifties and sixties. I turned to Sandy, my neighbor, and asked her quietly, “Where are you headed?”

Sandy replied, “Well, I heard that most of our group is headed to meet up with a cruise in Sydney.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to meet my new granddaughter.”

I wanted to cry. God hadn’t just heard my frantic prayers; he had answered them in abundance. I was literally surrounded by sweet grandmotherly and grandfatherly sorts. Mary slept like an angel and then when morning came she laughed and entertained us all until we landed. When my husband found me in the crowd and took his little family in his arms he asked, “How was your flight?”

I could only reply with teary eyes as I waved goodbye to Sandy, “It was a miracle.”